Death By Snood

Alas, I fear I have met my maker, and his name is SNOOD . After years of using the computer for more productive (yet strangely less meaningful) purposes, I happened across mention of my former Lord-of-time-suck on a version feed; and, like an ex-smoker on a Philip Morris cowboy retreat,...well, a struggle is futile, isn't it?

Even now, my wife calls to me from the bedroom, asking when I will come and spend time with her. But I cannot hear her. I need to keep the Snoods from destroying me again. Just one more game. One more day. Now my son is graduating college. Good for him; now back to the little triangle guys. Snood at work, Snood for breakfast, Snood for president, Snood retirement fund. Yes! Yes! More! Must have more....

Is a video game any different than a cigarette?